The Art of Tennis
by Jiinta Kid
Summary: The idea certainly appealed to her. But how would she be able to get him to sit down for her, in order to paint the details of his prince-like face, for example? RyoSaku
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.

Note: This story is an alternate reality. They're still in seventh grade and they're still in Seigaku. In fact, everything in the anime/manga storyline is the same, except in the way that Ryoma and Sakuno meet each other (which you'll find out in this chapter). That's where I deviated from the original story. Oh, and the fact that Sakuno's an artist. I think that's about all I had to say…Hope you enjoy!

The Art of Tennis

**Chapter 1: The Artist (And The Beginning of Her Obsession)**

* * *

The beautiful canvas. The blue sky and the tennis courts. Several male players playing across the courts. The wild crowd cheering outside of the fence.

Sakuno bit her bottom lip, smiling proudly at her piece of art. It was a small eight by twelve watercolor painting, something she did as part of recreation and not as part of her usual twenty-four by twenty-four paintings she did for her class. Not like it could be. She did so many paintings of the Seigaku courts and regulars, she would have bored her whole art class if it was all she turned in. But it was what she painted in her leisure, when she was at peace and craving for a paintbrush and paper or canvas. And craving for the sport of tennis.

She had never been interested in playing sports, not until a month ago. Now, however, she imagined herself in the courts, holding a racquet that was her own, and playing matches to her heart's content. The problem was, she had never played tennis in her life. She didn't even know if she could be good at it.

And what was the point in fantasizing about a sport if she never played? She _wanted_ to. She was afraid, however, of investing her money on her own tennis equipment, only to find that it wasn't for her, that she wasn't made for the sport as _he_ was, and she would only embarrass herself and end up walking back home with an (imaginary) tail between her legs.

_He_ made it look so easy though, and maybe that was why she thought she could also do it too, if she was just given the chance and proper basic training to begin with. But she had no time for it. She had to keep up with her homework and house chores, and all of her spare time was filled with art and painting…some for school, most for her own merriment (though, of course, she couldn't complain about that taking her time…it _was_ her decision after all, but she couldn't stay from a canvas for too long).

It was during one of these busy 'leisure' painting days that she first met him personally. It was on the school grounds, where she sat on a bench under the shade of a tree, a sketchbook in her lap, near the school tennis courts. She was having a frustrating afternoon. Her art teacher had assigned a sketch, based around the theme of something 'fun' she liked. And of course it couldn't be painting, which she did all her time…it was too easy. It was supposed to be a fun, easy assignment, a 'break' from all their other more demanding projects. But Sakuno was wracking her brain, literally running her hands through her hair in frustration as she thought about what other 'fun' thing she did besides art. _Television? No, I hardly watch television…Board games? No, I haven't played one in ages…Cleaning? No, that's too boring. Not to mention, I'll sound like an old woman next to all my peers._ She groaned to herself when she felt a sudden, light tap against her head, and her head jerked up to see a male student dressed in the school's tennis uniform, smirking down at her. He'd tapped her with his crimson racquet, which his arms now held behind his head.

"Ne, do you want your head to explode?"

Sakuno stared at him blankly.

"You keep rubbing on it like a match," he further elaborated.

"Eto…" Sakuno let down her hands, mesmerized the young man's confident smirk. Her eyes looked at the racquet. She thought he must have been one of the regulars. It would explain the confident (and cocky) air that surrounded him. Was he in her grade? She couldn't remember him from any of her classes.

The boy frowned, his smirk disappearing. Sakuno found herself wondering what made it go away…she was disappointed that it was gone, even if she had only seen it for a moment. "Can you talk?" he asked, and Sakuno felt as if she had tripped over and smacked her face flat against hard cement.

"O-Of course I can talk," she finally replied, rather indignantly.

"Che…took you a long time to."

And with that, he lowered his white Fila cap and walked away, still with that cocky air about him. Sakuno's eyes followed him as he reached the tennis courts. And she spent the rest of the lunch hour watching him play matches against the other regulars (winning all of them, of course), growing fascinated with his speed and ability and the way he made the sport look so easy to master. As she developed her admiration for him, her admiration for the sport itself also grew. And since that day, she had painted over a dozen detailed canvas of the courts and its players, including him, and that wasn't even counting the doodles and sketches she did during class or at home.

Or the thirteenth painting she had just finished.

School was dismissed over an hour ago but Sakuno stayed behind in the art classroom to finish her recreational work. Needless to say, she was very pleased with it, and it was perhaps the most detailed and delicate painting she had made of the tennis courts yet. As she looked at her finished artwork, her hand dipped the paintbrush in the paint, mixing colors until they began to resemble a blue-green hue…the color of the tennis boy's hair.

Sakuno paused when she realized this, and shyly began to put away all her things. What did it mean? She knew she had grown a big interest in the sport, tennis. It was painfully obvious through all of her recent paintings. _He_ was always featured in them, though she blended him in with other players or with crowds of cheering bystanders when he won a game (but to her, his white Fila cap always made him stand out). Maybe… But she shook her head. If she did something like that, then it was a clear sign that she was being obsessed. But maybe…she should start doing her own portrait of him.

The idea certainly appealed to her. But how would she be able to get him to sit down for her, in order to paint the details of his prince-like face, for example? She didn't even know him, besides the short exchange they had a month ago. And it would definitely be awkward to go up to him, her being a total stranger to him, and suddenly ask him to pose for her.

_Definitely_ awkward, Sakuno thought, her cheeks getting warm. She wasn't even sure she would be able to concentrate on the portrait itself, if she was sitting face-to-face with him.

She packed her things, wearing her school bag on one shoulder, and carrying her portfolio bag with the other hand. She left the school building and neared the tennis courts, as she always did before leaving to go home. Usually she looked at the players for a minute or two, before leaving the school property. Today, however, she walked closer to the courts, close enough that she reached the fence that surrounded the courts, and leaned her forehead on it as she looked in.

The regulars were still training, of course. She knew their basic schedule by now, though not from playing a stalker on the team…rather, she asked her grandmother about the team. Up until she met that boy, she had never been much curious about her grandmother's job as Head Coach of the boys Seigaku tennis team, but once she did, she asked her grandmother about the team and tennis, in general. Her grandmother, pleased with her granddaughter's interest in the sport, told her all about tennis and the school's team which, unknown to Sakuno until then, had actually begun to gain national recognition because of their good skills. Needless to say…her grandmother bragged quite a bit that night.

"Ah! It's a cute freshman girl! I wonder who she's come to see!"

An older boy with a spiky hairstyle, stopped in the middle of playing a match, to point at her in exaggerated glee. His opponent, a red-headed regular (who, Sakuno recalled from her observations, used acrobatics in his playing style), groaned at him and said, "Oi, Momo-chan! I really want to practice my new move already, nyah!"

"But, Eiji-senpai, it's a _cute girl_. And she looks about that brat's age!" replied the one called 'Momo-chan', who wasn't doing anything to keep his voice down. At this, 'Eiji' grinned and the two started running toward the fence…toward Sakuno.

Sakuno yelped and took a step back from the fence when the two reached her, their hands on the fence and their faces pressed against it as they smiled childishly down at her. "Ne, ne, what are you doing here?" Momo asked her, excitement clearly apparent in his voice. "Are you, by chance, here to see a certain shorty?"

"She's here to see O'chibi!" piped in Eiji, and the two took on triumphant looks, as if they'd just won a doubles match together at the Nationals.

Sakuno smiled at them awkwardly, feeling nervous. She didn't know what they were talking about or why they were so happy to see her, and she didn't know what to say to them.

"Aw, don't be shy! What's your name?" Momo asked.

"S-Sakuno. Sakuno Ryuzaki."

"That's such a cuuute n—"

"Nyah!" Eiji cried, interrupting Momo. "She's Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter!"

Their happy faces immediately disappeared and were replaced with disappointment. "So she's not here to see the brat, after all…She's just here to see the coach," mumbled Momo.

Eiji nodded solemnly. "What a shame…and I thought O'chibi was finally—"

"Oi! Twenty laps! The both of you, right now!"

The two groaned and complained with the 'buchou', who remained stoic and added fifteen laps more to their original count.

Sakuno sighed in relief once the two players left her alone to do their laps, but her head jerked up again when someone else addressed her.

"Well, if it isn't the 'head-wracker' again. Wonder what she's doing here." It was the tennis prince! He stood almost ten feet ahead of her. He wasn't looking at her, but rather at the tennis ball he was repeatedly bouncing on the side of his racquet.

"I…I was just looking…" replied Sakuno timidly. 

"Hn," was his short reply. He let the ball fall on the clay court once before catching it in his hand when it bounced back in the air. "Do you play tennis?" he asked, finally facing her.

"N-No…I-I mean, I've never played before. But I'd like to…" she said, her eyes falling to the clay court in embarrassment. His golden eyes were very intense…it was hard to look him in the eyes for long without feeling remarkably embarrassed. Though of what, she wasn't sure.

"Grab a racquet," he said.

Sakuno looked back up, surprised by his request. "…Eh?"

"Grab a racquet," he repeated, going over his words slower this time. "Can't you understand, either?"

Sakuno flushed in embarrassment. "O-Of course I can understand…I just…" She stopped herself before she could say anything more to humiliate herself further. She walked into the court, placing her things on a bench, before grabbing a random racquet from the ground.

"The grip on that one's horrible. Grab another one," said the tennis prince. He was already in position on the other side of the court. Sakuno examined the racquet she had picked up, and realized that the grip did indeed look quite worn out and old. She let go of that one and looked around for another racquet.

"Hurry up. There's another one under the bench."

"H-Hai…" Though he didn't really sound impatient (perhaps lazy instead), there was no denying how 'pushy' he was. Sakuno kneeled down and reached for the silver racquet under the bench, before straightening up and getting back on the court.

"You're supposed to be on the right corner, where I'll be serving to," the tennis prince called to her again.

"R-Right!" Sakuno flushed a deeper red, moving from the center of the court to the corner. She should have known this already, of course…after all, she had been observing the sport of tennis for quite some time now. But to be actually playing a game with _him_…she couldn't keep her thoughts straight, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Here I go," he announced, and Sakuno gripped her racquet tightly, bracing herself for his first serve.

* * *

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.

The Art of Tennis

**Chapter 2: The Silver Racquet (And Its Owner's Nosy Pupils)**

-

Perhaps he thought she had more capability when it came to tennis, because his serve came fast.

_Too_ fast.

Sakuno yelped as she moved away from the ball's path, afraid that if it hit her, it would leave her with a swelling bruise on her thigh. And maybe she wasn't exaggerating. When the ball bounced away, Sakuno saw that it left behind a dark round spot where it hit the court. Did the ball always go this fast before? It had always seemed slower when she observed the players from afar.

"A-Ano…could…could you hit slower?" she said hesitantly.

"Hn. That _was_ slow," said the prince, walking back to his serving spot. He had moved after serving, probably expecting her to have returned the ball. It made Sakuno feel disappointed in her inability, but that only fueled her resolve to get better.

This time, he lobbed the shot. Her eyes followed the ball in the air, anticipating where it would land. Just as it had bounced and she readied herself to hit it with her borrowed racquet, she heard a familiar voice calling to her, interrupting her concentration. Her shot flopped and the ball bounced weakly on the court until it settled against the net.

"Sakuno, what are you doing here? You're actually playing tennis?" Her grandmother, Sumire Ryuzaki, approached her at the court, hands on hips, but a very surprised and pleased expression on her face. "I thought you would be home by now."

"Um…I am. Going home now, I mean," replied Sakuno. Red in the face, for she had failed to prove any ability in her to play tennis to the tennis prince _twice_, she hastily pushed the racquet into her grandmother's arms to go and grab her things. Unfortunately for her, she hadn't realized that her portfolio bag wasn't properly closed…and when she went to grab it in her haste, it fell from the bench and papers depicting the players and tennis were scattered on the court.

Sumire bent to pick up one of these papers and looked at it in interest. "Oh, are these new assignments for your art class?" The tennis prince had walked over with an apathetic look, his crimson racquet held behind his head again.

"N-No, I made them on my own," replied Sakuno quickly, taking the paper from her grandmother's hands and stashing it away in her bag with the rest of her papers. After she was sure she had put away all her papers, she closed her bag and stood up. "I'll go home now…" she mumbled quietly. She watched, as her grandmother opened her mouth to say something and then pause to look at the twelve-year-old boy still standing next to her.

"What are you still doing here, Ryoma?" she said, raising an eyebrow. Her voice had taken the tone she used on slacking players, hard and mean, the sort of thing that made Sakuno both proud and yet embarrassed of her grandmother. "I can't have my team slacking off! Go join Momoshiro and Eiji. Twenty laps!"

"Uiss…"

Sumire looked back at Sakuno and winked at her with a smile. "Just make sure to get home by dinner time. I have something I'd like to show you," she said, then waved goodbye at her granddaughter before leaving her to join the other players.

Sakuno wrapped her arms around her portfolio bag, hugging it against her chest. _That was really close…You have to be more careful next time, Sakuno!_ After mentally chiding herself (and thinking what 'Ryoma'—for that was his name—would have thought if he'd seen her work), she walked away from the tennis courts, failing to notice the tennis regular who picked up a stray drawing of hers and looked at it with a small, somewhat sadistic, smile on his face.

-

"Dinner was delicious, Obaa-chan!" Sakuno said cheerfully when she was done with her food.

Sumire smiled, then got up from her seat. "I have something for you," she had said, piking Sakuno's curiosity. Sumire had left the kitchen. It had been a full minute when Sakuno wondered if she had been supposed to follow after her grandmother, when Sumire suddenly returned. There was a silver racquet in her hand.

Sakuno's eyes widened. "Obaa-chan…!"

Sumire smiled again as she took her seat across Sakuno. She put the racquet on the table, relishing in the fascination that showed in Sakuno's eyes. "Y'know I used to play tennis. This was my racquet." Sakuno continued to admire the racquet silently. It was no secret that her grandmother played tennis in her earlier years. But she'd never seen her grandmother's racquet before. It showed a new face of who her grandmother was. Sumire Ryuzaki – the tennis player. "Sakuno," Sumire said, to get her to look up from the racquet. "I want you have it."

"E-Eh?" Sakuno stared at her grandmother in astonishment. _Her…play tennis? With her grandmother's racquet?_ She began to stutter incoherent words before finally saying, "…B-But I can't play tennis!"

Sumire frowned. "Che, it figured that cocky brat wouldn't have given you a break. Don't feel discouraged by the stupid players on my team, Sakuno. Some of them like to show off." She mumbled other things under her breath but Sakuno failed to catch what they were. "Anyway, I noticed how _taken_ you seem to be with tennis. At least with my racquet, you can start getting to know the sport more. I'll get a player on my team to give you lessons, if you'd like."

Sakuno was still at a loss for words. "T-Thank you," she finally said, and looked at the shiny, silver racquet on the table. For a racquet that had been used plenty of times before, it still looked as good as new. She finally reached out to hold the racquet. It felt different from holding the last racquet she had used when she was playing the prince – er, Ryoma. Sakuno figured it would take some time to get used to this one, as well.

"Who knows? In due time, you may get your own comfortable racquet." Sumire smiled at her from across the table.

Sakuno smiled back. The racquet felt strangely reassuring in her hands.

-

"Ooo, that's a nice painting there!" Eiji Kikumaru jumped over to see the painting in Fuji's hands. He wrapped an arm around Momoshiro playfully. "Too bad your face doesn't show, nyah!"

"My natural beauty is incomplete…" Momo replied in mock sadness. "How can someone paint my beautiful muscled body in the middle of a shot and forget to show my face?"

"At least I'm not the only one who realizes how ugly it really is!" came a voice from the other side of the boys' locker room.

"Shut up, Mamushi! You wouldn't know a beautiful face if it kissed you!"

"_Are you threatening me?"_

"As much amusing as it would be to see Momo and Kaidoh kiss…" Fuji broke in with his gentle, almost feminine, voice. "…I'm afraid we have more pressing matters to discuss. See?" He pointed to a specific figure in the painting, another tennis player besides Momo that was featured in the painting. Eiji and Momo took a closer look. Though Momo's body took most of the paper, there was another player in the background that featured even more detail than Momo's beloved abs, walking along the court's sidelines with a red racquet against a shoulder and a white cap that obscured half of the player's face.

"That's O'Chibi!"

"What's Echizen doing, taking all the grandeur of my painting for himself?!"

"Don't you think it's weird that the distant object in the painting has even more detail than the one in closer perspective?" said Fuji, moving on. "It's almost as if it was meant to trick the viewer. At first glance, you'd think this painting is all about Momo. But the artist's attention was clearly on Echizen." He smiled, that devious smile that every regular in Seigaku had grown to fear. Fuji was up to something again.

"You mean…" Eiji slowly caught on to what the other senpai was saying. "…O'Chibi has a secret admirer?"

"Ah! How beautiful! And yet tragic! It's clearly a one-sided love, the smitten girl watching her love from afar! Oh, the _young!_" Momo exclaimed, his eyes getting a faded look as he expressed this so eloquently.

"Oh, you're so damn melodramatic…"

"Shut up, Mamushi, or I'll slit your throat!"

"Ne, Fuji, did you see who dropped this?" Eiji interrupted, eager to know who his O'Chibi's secret admirer was.

A gleam came to Fuji's eyes. "Yes, I did," he replied.

Eiji and Momo held their breath.

"But I won't tell you," he finished.

Eiji and Momo slumped. They knew he was doing this on purpose. The love life of young Echizen Ryoma was something they were both guilty of meddling with, and they were damn proud of it.

"And what are you going to do with this?" Eiji asked, a little worry seeping into his voice.

Fuji smirked. "Oh, I'm going to have some fun."

"And what sort of fun would that be?" Momo followed in the questioning.

"You see that group of girls standing outside, each talking about our little tennis star?"

Eiji and Momo nodded furiously.

"Well, let's just say that all of them, including the rest of the school, will know about this painting come tomorrow morning."

Eiji and Momo gasped. Oh, the brilliance (if not somewhat pure evil) of their Fuji Shuusuke!

"Let's just see how long it takes for our Echizen to figure out who his secret admirer is."

--

Notes: Thank you for all the reviews! I appreciate them very much, including things some have pointed out to me. It helps me work on my story to make it better. Also, I have a little question… Ryoma often has that reply (especially to his senpais) that sounds like "uiss…" (as written above). I'm not sure if that's how you spell it out, though. Any help/suggestions/corrections?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis.

The Art of Tennis

**Chapter 3: The Painting And All The Fuss (And The Prince's Reaction To It All)**

-

If she wanted to really learn tennis, then the first thing she had to do was observe the players in action. Not that she already didn't, but Sakuno's concentration had never been more intense. She paid extra attention to little details such as how the bodies turned to deliver stronger shots, or how much difference a particular grip on the racquet could have on the ball's spin. She drew all this out as she observed too. She filled empty white pages with several sketches of these little details, hopefully to be able to look at them later and try them out for herself.

Because she wasn't going to make a fool of herself in front of the tennis prince again.

Well, she _hoped_ she wouldn't.

The boys' morning practice seemed shorter than usual that morning. Sakuno also noticed there were some regulars missing. She couldn't think of a reason for them to be gone, except that it was probably something serious; she knew how hard these players toiled in hopes to reach the Nationals, so it didn't make sense such a handful of them were absent. That included the prince.

The morning bell had rung, signaling that students had a bit of time left before homeroom began. Sakuno got up from her bench, located outside the fence that housed the boys' tennis courts, and packed her pencils and sketches into her portfolio bag. It was a shame that she hadn't had a chance to see _Ryoma_ (referring to him as the 'prince' had become a habit that she couldn't easily break). But she could at least hope to see him in the afternoon practices and that cheered her up a little.

-

"Oh, Echizen, you're going to _love_ this!"

"I can't wait to hear what O'Chibi has to say about it!"

The two older teens dragged their younger freshman teammate with them, forced tightly between their bodies as they made their way along the crowded hallway. Momo and Eiji enjoyed the look of frustration mixed with confusion in the younger boy's face. It also looked irritated, but they supposed it was all due to the crowd of students they were pushing through to reach their final destination. It wasn't too hard – Fuji had the idea that it was best to show "it" in a hall full of freshman classes, reasoning that the vast majority of Ryoma's fan-girls were freshmen; that, and it doubled the chances of Ryoma seeing the painting. Of course, it was easy for Momo and Eiji to clear the freshmen in their path. It wasn't necessary, however, but they were too impatient to wait for Ryoma to stumble upon the painting on his own and decided to take it upon themselves to show him.

At last they knew they were nearing "it" when the squeals of fan-girls increased by a ten-fold. Momo found himself wishing it was for his own beautiful abs and not for the cocky brat he was carrying along, but at least he didn't have to go through the trouble of dealing with them. The painting came in sight, and he winked to Eiji. Eiji gave him a thumbs-up, then finally shoved the shorter boy in front of the wall where "it" was posted on.

Silence filled the hall. Some whispers were still being delivered from person to person, each wondering what the tennis prince's reaction would be to this obvious show of admiration. (It never seemed to cross their minds that the painting had to do with Momo, and if it did, it was quickly dispelled by the fan-girls clearly supporting Ryoma's role in the painting.)

Of course, the young prince had failed to see past Momo's supposed main role in the painting. He turned to his senpai, simply saying, "So?"

Shocked whispers permeated the hall. "He doesn't _care?_" one of the fan-girls commented.

Momo couldn't believe how incredibly _simple_ Ryoma's head worked. He raised a twitching eyebrow, evidence of how Ryoma's dense mind was irking him at the moment. "Echizen, come on…can't you see _past_ the obvious?" Eiji nodded along next to him, waiting to see if their O'Chibi would catch on quickly.

But he proved to be as dense as ever. "See what? It's just a painting with Momo-senpai," he replied, shrugging. He gave his senpai an annoyed look. "Can I just go to class now? This is stupid, senpai."

Momo's patience snapped. "_You're_ the one who's stupid! See here, Echizen!" He marched forward, stabbing a finger repeatedly on the smaller Ryoma in the painting. "That's _you!_ This whole painting is about _you!_"

"Nyah, O'Chibi, you have to be really blind not to see that…" commented Eiji with a pouting face.

Ryoma looked even more annoyed. "Well, if it was going to be about me, they should've just painted _me_ all over the page. _That_ makes more sense!" His older senpai-tachi just shook their heads at him in resignation, which only irritated him further. "I'm going to class," he said sharply. He turned on his heel and began making his way through the crowd.

"Nyah, O'Chibi, don't you wanna know which girl did this?" Eiji called after him.

But the younger boy ignored him and moved on.

-

By the time Sakuno had passed by the same hallway, the painting had been taken down and the crowd had dispersed. There was no more point in having it up after Ryoma had seen it, and even less point to it when it clearly displeased him. So she was very confused with all of the excited conversations her classmates were having throughout the day. All the while she was able to catch certain words or phrases being repeated, such as 'painting' and 'the wall', and she was also able to catch the name it was all associated with: _Ryoma_.

She was wondering what all this had to do with Ryoma when a fellow classmate named Tomoka Osakada had raised a finger in the air and said loudly to every student crowded around her desk, "All we know is it was _definitely_ a proclamation of love!"

More excited whispers ensued.

When the crowd had finally dispersed from Tomoka's desk, Sakuno leaned over to her. Tomoka was closer to Sakuno than any other classmate in the school, despite the very obvious differences in the girls, and so she felt very comfortable to finally take the chance and ask her what everyone was talking about. "A declaration of love?" she asked her, looking curious. "I think I missed what happened this morning…"

"Well, you missed a _whole lot_ this morning then! It's like the biggest thing that's ever happened in Seigaku!" An exaggeration, Sakuno was sure, but Tomoka seemed very excited to explain all the details to her. "Some girl did this painting with Ryoma-sama in it and posted it in the hall this morning! Of course, us fan-girls of Ryoma-sama were very curious as to what our Ryoma-sama was doing in this picture, and as I'm President of Ryoma-sama's fan club, I _had_ to be there to see all this. Anyway, Ryoma-sama was actually dragged there by some senpai-tachi and he saw it!" Tomoka had taken a moment to bob her head up and down, smirking with all the juicy information she was able to give to Sakuno. Sakuno had to gently prod her in the arm to keep her going. "Oh right, well, anyway… He didn't seem to be very pleased with it. Not very shocking, with all the unanswered love letters our fan club sends to him daily… but that had to be very embarrassing for whoever painted the picture! Rejected in the middle of the hallway and in front of everyone!"

"Did he say he didn't like the picture?" Sakuno asked.

"No, but it was all over his face! Of course he didn't like it!"

Sakuno frowned lightly, turning back to her own desk. It all seemed to have been formed out of personal opinions and assumptions. That much was evident in everyone's slightly different take on the story. And as much as she liked Tomoka, she also knew that the girl liked to exaggerate on 'juicy' details with all of the attention that it gave her. From what she'd picked up throughout the rest of the day, it seemed like most boys were fairly curious but hadn't really reached the conclusion that Ryoma absolutely loathed the girl and the painting. Most girls (the majority being from Ryoma's "fan club"), on the other hand, had reached the opposite conclusion: Ryoma hated the painting and whoever had the nerve to post it in front of the school. They were just curious _which _girl did it, however, and if it was from their own fan club.

Sakuno wasn't sure why she was thinking it all through so much. She had a faint idea that it was a last resort to defend the Ryoma in her mind's image. Humiliate a girl and her painting in front of everyone else…Ryoma wasn't like that, was he?

-

Ryoma walked glumly to the boys' tennis courts with his crimson racquet held limply at his side. His senpai-tachi had used every little chance they could find to tease him about his lack of art understanding and who ever his "secret admirer" could be. "Che," he said, tugging down his hat. He still stood by his previous assertion: the piece _wasn't_ on him. And even if it was, it was pretty dumb. Stupid artists and their stupid hidden meanings. Why couldn't they ever be straightforward with their work? It would have saved him from looking stupid in front of his senpai-tachi and everyone else.

It was with this last thought that he saw the pig-tailed girl walking ahead, carrying that black portfolio bag of hers. A sudden image came to Ryoma's head, of scattered papers and paintings, most based off of tennis… He narrowed his eyes. It _had_ to be her.

-

As she walked to the boys' tennis courts, Sakuno pondered what her classmates were saying in her last art class. One of them mentioned how the morning painting looked like her art style, then others agreed and began to ask her if she was the one who put up the picture. Sakuno had to stop working on a new canvas to convince them all that she hadn't put anything up, that she was, in fact, sitting outside and sketching when it all happened. She could tell not all of them were completely convinced.

She sighed. Did that girl's painting really look so much like her own work?

It was then that she heard the fast approaching steps coming from behind her. She turned around and was startled to see that it was _Ryoma_. She paused, gaping at him, surprised that he had taken time to approach her. "R-Ryoma-kun…?" She blinked several times, finally noticing that something was different. She gulped.

Was it just her or did his golden eyes look strangely…_murderous_?

--

TBC…


End file.
